


Always You

by MyJediLife



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is a Mess, Ben knows his past lives, F/M, LOTS OF PEOPLE, Life sucks and everything hurts, Mentions of Pregnancy, RFFA 2019, Reincarnation, Rey (Star Wars) is a Mess, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey doesn't, Slow Burn, people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife/pseuds/MyJediLife
Summary: Ben Solo remembers his past lives - and the curse which causes him to live his life over and over again, always finding the same person, yet never destined to be with her.





	1. Mesopotamia

The Temple of Inanna—she who made the ground fertile and the crops grow plentiful—loomed over the city known as Sumer, the centermost point, towering over them all to remind them who blessed their existence. People moved in and out of the Temple, some in prayer, some bringing offerings to pay their respects to their Goddess to ensure their crops would flourish and their children would grow strong and proud.

He moved through the streets of Sumer, eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of his beloved. He had been drawn to her the moment he had seen her, standing on the steps of the Temple. He had known then that he loved her, even though they could never be together.

He was the chosen of the High Priestess Radjni. She treated him well, yet he was discontent. The one who truly brought joy to his heart was one of the lower priestesses of the temple. But as the High Priestesses’ chosen, he should not be here, looking to fulfill the fertility rites with one of the Temple’s lower Priestesses. Radjni was the living embodiment of their Goddess. She provided everything he needed—but he  _ craved _ more. He craved a companionship she could not give him, the touch of someone who made his heart beat faster and his body yearn for her. He knew she felt the same as he. His touch made her body come to life, and their couplings were always slow and full of feeling—not the wild couplings that the other men received when they came to pay their respects to Ishtar.

And so, they agreed to meet discreetly in the forests surrounding the temple. She was as bright as the sun, her face shining and her eyes bright when she saw him waiting for her. He surged forward, taking her into his arms as their lips met over and over again. The rushing waters of the Tigris were their accompaniment as their bodies sang songs of love and longing to each other, the vibrant, colorful birds joining in after a time as they realized the couple was no danger to them.

….

The Avatar of the Goddess was upset with him. He could tell as soon as he walked into her majestic home. Who was he, without her? He was no one, a mere farmer until she had bestowed him with the gift of being her chosen.

The flash of anger he saw in her eyes that should have warned him, and a set of her plush lips as she commanded him to kneel before her, to worship her as he washed her feet. He may not love her, but she was the Goddess embodied, and to anger her was to anger Ishtar herself, and if Ishtar was angered, she would not bless the crops, and the women of the city would become infertile, rendering their people extinct.

The Temple Guards came in behind him as he kneeled before her and bound his hands and feet and he knew they had been found out. And he could only implore the Goddess to be kind to his Beloved in her punishment.

….

Radjni, High Priestess of Ishtar, stood on the dais in the center of the Temple, the villagers of Sumer gathered around. 

The crowd watched curiously as two people were brought into the center of the temple, both bound at the hands and feet. Radjni looked at them in disgust before looking out over her people, her voice carrying so that all could hear.

“Ishtar, our Beloved Goddess—she who brings fertility to our crops, she who makes our wombs fertile and who blesses us with strong, virile children! Ishtar is displeased by the actions of these two, and demands a sacrifice!”

Radjni nodded to the Temple guards, and as they descended on him, he could only look at  _ her _ , his beloved—the only woman who he loved. His eyes met hers, and he saw the terror in them, but he also saw love, and longing.

  
  


The guards forced him to stand, surrounding him and carrying him roughly until he was standing in front of Radjni, and when she nodded again they pushed him down to his knees.

“Ishtar demands a sacrifice!” Radjni’s voice carried through the Temple and out into the streets. “This man dared to betray Ishtar! I chose this man and he has betrayed me with this woman—a Priestess of our Goddess! For his betrayal—he shall die, but first… first, he shall see what his betrayal has done.”

Bending down, Radjni sneered at the man before whispering into his ear, her words making his blood run cold. “By the power of Ishtar, I set a curse upon you. You shall spend eternity being born again and again, and in every life, you will meet your Beloved—but you will never have her. I call upon our Goddess Ishtar for this—and set it upon you until the Earth ends.”

Standing, Radjni nodded to the Guards, who brought his beloved forward, her eyes meeting his one last time frantically, before one of the Guards drove a sharpened pike into the base of her skull, and as he watched the blood fly from her perfect lips and her body going limp, he sobbed.

And as the spear was placed at the base of his skull, the last thought in his mind was that he would have done it all over again, just to have those few fleeting moments with her.


	2. Pompeii—79 CE

Barnabas was due home any day now, and Aurelia was thankful for that. While she was proud of her husband’s trade success—she always missed him terribly when he had to cross the bay for business. She was left at home, tending to their triplets while he was gone, longing for his touch every moment of every day.

Few women could say that they loved their husbands as fiercely as Aurelia loved Barnabas.

As the wooden door to their home opened, she looked up from her preparations for dinner, expecting to find one of her triplets, instead finding her tall, handsome husband. Running into his open arms, Aurelia peppered his face with kisses before pulling back to murmur at him, “Barnabas! Welcome home, my love... I missed you!”

Barnabas looked at his wife tenderly. In this life, they had been together for five years, and the Gods had blessed them with triplets four years ago. If it was possible, his wife looked even more beautiful this lifetime than the others they had shared, her skin glowing and sun-kissed, her hazel eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“I brought some meat home, my beauty,” Barnabas breathed against her ear, his lips nipping at the sensitive skin there, “But I am far more hungry for something else.  _ Starving _ , in fact…” He let his hands drift to her backside, his palms cupping her perfect rear as he squeezed softly, pulling her closer so that she could feel the evidence of his wanting against her own core.

“Barnabas! The children! They will be excited to see you, and the gifts they are certain you brought home for them.” Aurelia smiled at her husband, nuzzling his neck and placing whisper-soft kisses at the sensitive skin where his neck joined his shoulder.

“After dinner, then. The children can go visit my mother and father, and we can get…  _ reacquainted _ . His lips met hers again, a kiss filled with promises for the night to come. He could never get enough of her, never get enough of kissing her, of feeling her skin under his.

“I would like that, my love. Very much. But I think it shall have to be later, my husband—have you forgotten that tonight is the Festival of Vulcan?” Aurelia smiled at Barnabas before turning to continue her meal preparations. Meanwhile, the door burst open to admit three whirlwinds, all of them vying for their father.

“Papa! Papa!” the triplets cried out, clamoring to climb into their father’s arms. Barnabas scooped them all up at once, their daughter settled onto his wide shoulders, and a son under each arm as he carried them outside into the atrium, where he could play with them in the sunshine and give his wife a chance to finish her chores.

Aurelia finished her preparations to the low rumble of her husband’s voice and the happy laughter of her children.

Most of Pompeii’s populace was gathered at the waterfront for the Festival of Vulcan. Large bonfires blazed in several locations, with people singing and drinking to celebrate Vulcan’s blessings on their land. As Barnabas and Aurelia moved through the crowds, greeting their friends and neighbors, the triplets in their parent’s arms gazed around with wide-eyed wonder, and they finally stopped at the water’s edge, gazing out across the bay as they clutched each other’s hands tightly. Aurelia looked over at her husband, his profile sharp against the light from the large bonfires, and she sighed happily, knowing that she was married to the perfect man, who strove to give them all the best life they could have.

They wandered through the streets leisurely, watching as the ritual sacrifices of live fish, cattle and goats were made to appease Vulcan, so that he could continue to bless them with prosperity, and land that would remain fertile for another year. Their hands remained clutched in the other’s, and as they partook in the festivities and food and drink, neither one of them ever left the other’s side.

….

While their initial plans didn’t go as they had anticipated that afternoon, after the children were asleep, they had occasion to reacquaint themselves with each other. While Barnabas had only been gone a month, it was far longer than either of them cared to be apart. As he slid into his wife’s slick folds, he was consumed with a feeling of  _ home _ and  _ love  _ and  _ contentment _ . Being with her was his destiny, and he was happiest when he was with her.

As he made love to her, Barnabas made sure she derived her pleasure first, not taking his until she was thoroughly limp and sated underneath him. It had been like this in every life for him—he wanted her to be completely satisfied in every way.

As they fell asleep wrapped around each other, their children sound asleep in their beds, Barnabas had never been happier than he was then.

….

They woke the next morning, their hands and lips moving leisurely over each other’s bodies, taking the precious time they had together before their children woke up. Aurelia always melted under his caresses, and she always felt like the most precious gem in the world under his ministrations. He never left her wanting or unsatisfied, and as she slid down his body, intending to pleasure him with her mouth, their house shook with a rumble that was not unfamiliar to them. They had both been living in Pompeii seventeen years prior, when the ground beneath them had also shook, and Barnabas could remember buildings toppling and people being injured by falling debris—even though he had been a child, it was still in his memories.

“Gather the children, love. We should all huddle under something, in case this continues. I don’t want any of us injured if something collapses.” Barnabas stood up, wrapping his robes around him quickly and heading to the bottom level of their home.

Aurelia soon joined him, their children dressed and still sleepy-eyed as they gathered in the kitchen. She eyed her husband with concern—she also remembered the earthquake when they had been children—her own father had been one of the casualties of the disaster.

“Let’s have a simple breakfast, love, and then I will go assess the damages, if there are any, with the other men.” Barnabas looked at his wife before pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her lips softly. She was frightened, he could tell, the memories of the last earthquake at the forefront of her mind. Losing her father had been a difficult thing for her mother and her both to deal with.

Aurelia nodded, moving to gather the food so that they could eat.

As Barnabas stepped outside, he knew something was wrong immediately. Looking north, he saw a large cloud of smoke rising from the tree-covered mountain that rose high above the city. As Barnabas watched, the cloud of smoke started rolling outward, the winds guiding it from Mount Vesuvius towards the skies above Pompeii with sickening speed.

As his eyes widened, he turned to go inside, the skies already darkening from the cloud of ash.

….

They huddled together, the shutters over the windows closed and locked, and both Barnabas and Aurelia did their best to keep their children calm, even though their hearts were racing in their chests. When Barnabas looked outside that evening, a scarf tied across his face to protect him from inhaling anything he shouldn’t, the ash was raining down on the city like deadly snow, covering every inch and clinging to everything. The sounds of people coughing and choking as they tried to make their way home filled the air, and as he stepped inside, he had to brush the offending flakes off of him, the children watching in wonder as it floated to the tile floor softly.

And when the rocks and oven-hot gasses rumbled through Pompeii early the next morning at eight hundred miles an hour, obliterating every organic object in sight, they died as they had lived—together and in each other’s arms.


	3. 1127—St. Martin des Champs, France

Benoist Comtois sat upon his horse outside the chapel, waiting for his squire to join them. He was to go to Paris, where he would serve the royal family as a personal guard to the King’s own cousin, Lady Rhecia de Vitre.

It was an honor for any Knight Templar to serve the royal family, and Benoist looked forward to fulfilling his duty to the best of his talents and abilities. As his squire appeared , Benoist readied himself for the week-long journey through the French countryside.

….

A week later, they arrived at the Chateau de Gisors,the castle of King Louis the Fighter. Riding into the small courtyard, Benoist allowed the guards to announce his arrival, averting his eyes from any women he might come into contact with as the Templar code mandated.

  
  


After being shown to his set of rooms, Benoist got himself settled in, making note of any exits in his rooms in case he needed to use them. A good Knight Templar was always ready for anything. And when he took his simple evening meal before his prayers, Benoist felt confident that, should anything untoward happen, he would be prepared.

….

He met Lady Rhecia de Vitre three days later, and Benoist knew instantly it was  _ her _ . He’d lived many lives by now, and in each life he’d seen the same eyes in different people. He would know  _ her _ eyes anywhere—they had been burned into his soul for centuries now.

She was as beautiful as ever, and as he bowed low before her, giving her the respect deemed necessary due to her relationship to the King, Benoist wanted to rush forward to crush her slender body to his, to press his lips to her perfect ones. 

But he did not. 

Instead, he waited respectfully until the King introduced them.

Normally, Templars were not allowed to have contact with women—not even ones within their own family. However, Benoist had been given special permission by the Grand Master of his Order for this mission. His only objective was to see that the Lady de Vitre was kept safe, no matter what.

He would gladly give up his life for her. As long as his love was safe and happy, Benoist would be content in this life.

….

Keeping Lady de Vitre safe was easy. She normally stayed in her rooms with her servants and handmaidens close by. Until one night, when one of her handmaids came to summon him to her Lady’s room. 

He had seen women in their sleeping gowns before—although not in this life—and seeing her in one took his breath away. He knew what lay underneath the heavy fabric, the soft, supple skin that had his fingers aching to touch it. He wanted to ply her with kisses, his fingers and hands touching her in places that would make her gasp and moan in pleasure.

He knew what she liked, of course. He had pleasured her many times by now, in many different lives. Benoist waited for her to address him, keeping her eyes on the floor and trying desperately to keep his heart beating normally in his chest.

….

As the king’s cousin, Lady Rhecia’s dowry was highly prized. She knew that she would be used as a pawn in her cousin’s political chess game, and she would be marrying not for love but for convenience. She understood her duty to her family and her country, and would fulfill her obligations.

Then she had met  _ him _ , the man tasked with protecting her if needed, and everything changed for her. Rhecia could feel Benoist’s eyes on her every time they were near each other, and she found she rather liked the way he looked at her. It was wrong, not to mention forbidden, for them to ever be alone together, but Rhecia had decided that tonight, she would send her handmaidens away so that she could speak with Benoist in private.

Her cousin wasn’t in residence, currently, and Rhecia trusted her handmaidens to stay silent when told to. As Benoist entered the room, Rhecia stayed sitting at her vanity table, brushing her long hair out with a golden brush encrusted with jewels.

“My Lady? Are you well?” Benoist did his best to keep his eyes averted, as was proper.

“I am fine, Sir Benoist. I wanted to speak to you about an urgent matter—one that I hope you could attend to as soon as possible.” Rhecia looked at the handsome, tall Knight in the mirror, noticing his eyes were cast to the floor. “The first thing I would like you to do is  _ look _ at me.”

“You know I cannot, My Lady. ” Benoist’s voice was a low rumble in the room, causing a slow, delightful shiver to course through her body.

“Is that why your eyes are on me every time you think no one is watching? Is it that you find me hideous? Or me attractive?” Rhecia continued brushing her hair, already knowing his answer. Rhecia liked it when Benoist looked at her. His eyes burned with passion, and she found herself wondering what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to her. “What if I told you, Benoist, that I thought you were handsome, virile, and strong, and that many nights have passed with me wondering how it would feel to have your hands upon my skin?”

Rhecia stayed seated, lust burning in her breast. She watched as he started to move across the room, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror, and when he was finally standing behind her, he bent down, his lips finding the sensitive crook of her neck, his tongue flicking against the soft skin there almost leisurely.

She shivered, her eyes staying on him in the mirror the whole time.

“Benoist,” she said softly, “I —” Rhecia swallowed thickly, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a sensation in her abdomen, a kind of tightness that was waiting for  _ something  _ to make it go away. “I would like you to touch me. And I… I would very much like to touch you, as well.”

“My Lady,” Benoist said softly, his lips moving up to lick and suckle at the shell of her ear, “My King would not have you deflowered before you are wed. You know this.” His hands, large and warm, came around her then, enveloping her breasts in them as he continued to ply her ear and cheek with kisses until she could take it no longer and turned her head so that their lips could finally meet.

His lips were soft upon hers, his tongue caressing the seam of her lips until she opened them, allowing him to explore the heat of her mouth with it. His thumbs rolled across her already pert nipples, the sensation of his ministrations pulling a small, wanton moan from her throat.

Finally, he pulled his lips away, both of them breathless, their eyes boring into the other’s. Standing, Rhecia said softly, “I will handle my cousin. There are only two men in contention for my hand, both of them twenty years my elder. All they want is someone to bear them children and look pretty at their side. As long as I am fertile and know how to curtsey and stay silent, they will look past my… indiscretions.” Their eyes met again in the mirror, and Rhecia turned, letting out a small squeak of surprise as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed, much like she had always imagined her husband would one day carry her to her bridal bed.

Their lips met again as they crossed the room, their tongues dancing in her mouth, one of her hands resting between his tabard and white shirt, where she could feel the muscles of his chest working as he moved.

They reached the bed, their lips parting as Benoist laid her down upon it gently, and their eyes locked once more. The love Rhecia saw in their depths almost took her breath away, and she was captured by them as Benoist started to slowly undress her, his lips and hands skimming over her skin with delicacy as more of it was exposed. He was handling her like she was fine porcelain that would shatter if he was too rough with her.

Once she was completely exposed to him, Rhecia was reduced to a quivering mess under the ministrations of his lips, tongue and hands on every inch of skin. When he spread her thighs to settle between them, she opened her eyes, looking down at him in an impassioned haze.

Her handmaidens had talked about how men pleasured a woman, but they had never spoken about a man using his lips and tongues on them in the manner in which Benoist now was. His lips were kissing and licking the swollen skin of her very core, causing her to moan and writhe, the heavy feeling in her stomach blooming into something delightful and ethereal, almost. Her hands went to tangle in his silky raven hair, and he hummed in contentment against her folds, his tongue trekking from her heat up to the nub at the top of her slit over and over again, leaving behind a trail of sparks of white-hot pleasure.

Whatever was blooming in her stomach exploded into an inferno, travelling up every part of her, her fists clenching in Benoist’s hair as his name left her lips in a low, whispered moan, her back arching upwards and her feet curling with the feeling of pure delight she was experiencing.

She rocked upwards against his lips, waves of pleasure coursing through her body again and again until she sank back into the bed, boneless and weak. Benoist kissed his way up her body, his lips claiming hers, and she could taste something heady and musky on them. When she realized it was her essence she let out a low moan—she had marked him with her scent, and it was a completely primal feeling.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching hers, lust and need still burning in their depths, and Rhecia said softly, “I want to gaze upon you as you have on me. Please, Benoist. I need to touch you.”

He stood, towering over the bed as he removed his clothing, his skin dotted with small, dark marks that she wanted to touch. She had never wanted to touch a man before, had never had her passions ignited in such a manner. The primal need she felt for this man, though, was all encompassing, and she found she couldn’t resist him. Reaching out, her hand brushed his leg as he removed his pants, and as his large manhood was revealed to her, Rhecia’s eyes widened slightly at its size.

She knew the mechanics of coupling with a man, of course. She just had not been told that a man’s penis was so big. Surely, though, people had been doing this since the dawn of time. It would fit inside her somehow.

She reached out to him, her hand touching his leg, and he let himself drown in her eyes as he shifted onto the bed once more. One of his large hands reached out and took one of hers, settling it onto the bare skin of his chest as he spoke, his voice a low rumble of passion, “Touch me. Explore.”

Rhecia drew in a ragged breath, letting her fingers trail over Benoist’s well-muscled chest and arms, watching in wonder as her touch left behind a trail of goosebumps on his skin. He lay there, his eyes closed as she explored him, mapping his body in her mind so that once she was married to another man, she could draw it up when she was forced to lie with her husband. His body was warm and strong beneath her hand, and as her fingers moved lower, to the patch of dark hair forming a triangle just below his navel, she heard his breath hitch in his throat, the anticipation of her touching his manhood causing him to tense up.

She trailed her fingers over the taut length, the ruddy tip growing even more red as she curled her fingers around him, his low moan of happiness. A drop of white glistened at the tip of it, and Rhecia swooped the tip of her finger across it curiously, watching as Benoist shuddered under her, whispering softly, “Please, Rhecia, please… stroke me… it feels so good.”

Rhecia looked into Benoist’s eyes, nodding once before setting to work, her small hand stroking his length from base to tip and back again, watching as Benoist’s head dipped back into the mattress, exposing his neck to her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his breathing sped up, and Rhecia watched him, fascinated at the effect she was having upon him.

Finally, when he could no longer take it, Benoist reached down, gently gripping her wrist with his hand. “Rhecia, I… if you don’t stop, I will lose my seed on your beautiful hand, instead of inside you, where I truly wish to be.”

“You… you wish me to… ready myself?” Rhecia said softly, a beautiful blush creeping up from her chest and blooming on her cheeks.

Leaning in and placing a kiss to her lips once more, Benoist nodded. “It will hurt a bit, from what I have been told. However, I do believe I have readied you already.” Benoist smiled at her before kissing her once more, their tongues tangling as he positioned himself on top of her, his tip barely nudging her.

His lips left hers for a moment, and she let out a small moan at the loss. Her eyes sought his out in the muted light of the candles placed about the room on stands. “Rhecia… are you certain you want this?” Benoist asked her softly, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room— – they were both risking everything for this moment in time. She wouldn’t regret it, though - because as long as she lived, she wouldn’t ever feel as right as she did in this moment with her Knight.

“I want you,” she whispered softly, and Benoist pushed into her slowly, her pleasure slickened walls allowing him easy passage. As he hit her maidenhead, his lips met hers and he pushed forward, expecting the small gasp of pain that came from her lips. He stilled, making sure she was comfortable before he moved again, pushing himself further into her at an agonizingly slow pace.

Rhecia stilled at the feeling of him inside her. It hurt, but it was not unpleasant. Benoist watched her, his eyes boring into hers, and the intensity within the molton amber depths made her breath catch in her throat. 

This man wanted to worship her, and she could tell he wanted nothing more than to show his love for her in the most delicious ways. She could feel her body adjusted to his size, and she reached up with one hand to touch his face softly, giving him a slight nod to indicate he should continue with his ministrations.

As he murmured words of love to her— – how beautiful he found her, how good her skin felt under his hands, how they fit together perfectly— – he pushed forward more, until he was fully seated within her, her soft, tight folds encompassing him completely. He stilled once more, his lips meeting hers in a deep and passionate kiss, and when he had given her time to adjust to the new sensation, he started to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back inside her, over and over, and Rhecia could do nothing more than gasp and moan at the sensations he was bringing forth from her body.

It was much better than anything she had ever imagined. He was the key to the lock of her body, bringing forth pleasure from the deepest recesses within her. Her nails dug into his back lightly, and she felt the muscles beneath her hands tense, a slight hiss leaving his lips as he continued to move within her.

She lifted her hips to meet each thrust, bringing forth his own moans and whispered words of love once more.

  
  


As she started to shudder under him, her swollen folds pulsing and quaking around his length, Benoist let himself gaze upon her beneath him in the throes of her orgasm, her back arched delicately, her pert breasts thrust upwards and her lips open, moaning his name over and over again as he continued to thrust inside her, helping her ride the waves of her peak before, finally, he let his own orgasm crash over him like a tidal wave.

He finally settled himself beside her, when she had stopped quaking and he had softened inside her, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. She sighed contentedly, her heart going to his chest as her fingers traced delicate patterns on his upper arm.

“Benoist… I… I’ve never felt like this before. Is this what it is like to love someone? My heart feels like it is full and so light, and it is beating so fast in my chest. I started noticing it the day I met you, even though I couldn’t get you to look at me. Still, I longed to be with you. I want to be with you more, Benoist, even though I shouldn’t. Until… until my cousin chooses my husband, can we pretend to be happily in love, with a future together?”

Benoist looked at his love, not having to give any thought to how he would answer. “Anything for you. Always.”

….

When her maidenflow ceased, and her belly grew thick with their child, Benoist knew their time together was coming to an end for this life. Her handmaidens had failed with the potions, poultices and tinctures they had bought at great cost from the town’s alchemists to prevent pregnancy—and as her belly grew more, Benoist feared she would be punished for her indiscretions.

When they came for him a month later, when Rhecia’s belly was even more round and she was glowing in the most beautiful way, Benoist only wished he could see her one more time, so that he could tell her he loved her.

As he knelt before the Grand Master and his Brothers a week later, the scars from his beating still bleeding and sore on his face, and the wide stripes on his back from where he had been lashed even worse, Benoist learned of his fate, although he didn’t care. Life was pointless without his love—it was just a blur of days until he died and was born again to find her once more.

The Grand Master nodded, and two Knights came forward to shave the beard off his face roughly. “Benoist Comtois, you are hereby banished from the Order of the Knights Templar for your disregard of our tenets and for your sins. You shall be given an old horse and enough rations for a month’s journey, where you shall begin your life anew and beg God for forgiveness for your sins.”

He was guided outside the walls of the temple, and Benoist looked towards his oldest friend, who was one of his escorts, his voice raspy from thirst and silence as he asked, “What of my love? Will she be spared? Please, I must know!”

“She is with her soon-to-be husband, who was kind enough to overlook her state and agreed to raise the child as his own—with a sizable increase to her dowry, of course,” his once friend answered, his eyes hard and angry as he looked at Benoist. “Was she worth all this? You’ve lost everything you once coveted! You turned against God and the Order!”

As they stopped just outside the gates, Benoist was handed his rations, and his eyes met the other man’s briefly. “She was worth it. She is worth everything.”

When he rode away, Benoist’s thoughts were far away, in times past, and he hoped that death would find him soon. Twenty-five years later, death did find him, and Rhecia was his last thought in this lifetime.


	4. 1348—London

Benedict Solo strode through the streets of London as the sun started to descend, scratching absentmindedly at a bug bite on his arm. The streets were quiet at this hour, as most people were already done with their day’s work and were home, enjoying tea and the joyful laughter of their families.

He had to stay until the last cow was butchered, of course, because without making sure his customers—most of them from wealthy families—were satisfied with his work, he would not be able to go home to his precious wife.

She was known as Margaret in this life, but she insisted everyone call her Rey for some reason. Her mother had apparently called her that as a baby, and it had carried through her entire life. And who was Ben to tell her no when she looked at him with those eyes of hers, anyways? He had never been able to deny her anything.

As he reached their small home, he stepped inside, having to duck slightly to go through the doorway. Rey was in front of the fire, preparing poultices and potions for her work the next day. She was a talented healer, and lately she had been busy. There was a sickness had been sweeping through the city. She looked up, smiling at him and setting down her mortar and pestle before hurrying across the room to him and capturing his lips with hers.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, looking him over with the critical eye that only a healer had. Spying the small, raised bump on his arm, Rey drew in her breath with a hiss before going to her healer’s bag and pulling out a small clay jar filled with a foul-smelling paste. “When did you get that?” she asked, her tone full of worry as she gazed up into her husband’s eyes.

Benedict shrugged, trying to think about when he had first noticed it. As Rey grabbed his arm and started smearing the paste all over the bump, he wrinkled his nose at the overbearingly foul scent. “Today, I believe. Is it bad?”

“I’d like to think not, which is why I am being cautious and treating it now. The pyres grow larger every day.”

“Along with the smell,” Benedict replied, his nose wrinkling at the memory of the stench of the burning bodies. Rey finished applying the paste to his arm before she planted another kiss to his lips.

….

Rey stayed busy for the next three days, visiting and caring for those who had fallen ill with the sickness that was quickly overtaking the city. She was careful to always cover her face with poultices that would help keep the sickness from entering her body as she treated her patients. She could only hope she did not come down with the illness—although a few patients had survived under her care—the death rate was alarming.

She came home after dark every night, and Benedict always waited up for her, a cold meal ready to be shared with her in the candlelight before they tumbled into bed together. Before the plague had struck, they would sleep together as often as possible, since they both wanted children, but now they were frequently so exhausted that sleep overtook them each night the moment they climbed into bed.

She woke the next morning to a low moan from Ben, and as she lit the candles in their small sleeping area, Rey knew he was sick. She knew the symptoms well, and as she lifted his arms up to check underneath, she searched for the buboes she already knew she would find.

“No,” Rey said softly, shaking her head as she went for her healer’s bag. “Not you. It won’t take you, Ben. I won’t let it.” Going back to her husband’s side, Rey felt his forehead to see if he had a fever, although she already guessed that he did.

He was burning up. His eyes opened, a wild look in them, and one hand came up to brush against her face. “Rey, I-I’m thirsty. Can I have some water?”

Rey put on a smile as she looked at her husband. “Of course you can, Ben. How long have you been feeling sick, love?”

His eyes closed again, and he mumbled something incoherently, the hand on her face dropping to his side once more. Getting her supplies ready, her heart in her throat, Rey set quickly to work, doing everything she could to save her husband.

Bloodletting—which drew far more screams from her already pained husband than she ever wanted to hear.

Leeches—to suck the infection out.

Poultices of cut up snake and onions, more leeches—Rey tried everything. When Ben’s nose and lips started to turn black, the infection rotting his skin, and he started vomiting blood, she knew she had failed. She was losing him.

In the last few hours of his life, Rey didn’t leave his side. She held his hand, weeping and brushing his sweat-drenched hair out of his face. She had loved this man since the moment she met him, and she didn’t know how she would make it without him.

When he took his last breath, Rey felt like she had died as well.


	5. Salem Village – 1692

Verity Solo had always been a free spirit at odds with the solemn and doura settlement. Rey – as she was known to those close to her – loved every soul she had ever met, but especially the ones that others deemed lost, or tainted, or broken. Birds with injured wings, dogs with nettles stuck in their paws, and the occasional horse with a lame leg were all beautiful creatures, in Rey’s mind, and she tended to them all with patience and tenderness.

It was one of the very reasons Ben had fallen in love with her. While there had been many young women vying for his affections growing up, Verity Niima had never shown an interest in him. She had a disposition that was full of purity, kindness, and light that Ben had felt drawn too.

When he had asked to court her, her father had agreed immediately. Ben’s parents were of some importance in nearby Salem Town, and while Ben had set out on his own at a young age, everyone knew the names of Han and Leia Solo.

Rey had been shy and awkward at first, not certain as to why a handsome man such a Benjamin Solo wanted to court her, but as they got to know each other, each realized that they were simply drawn to each other on a spiritual level that neither could really explain. Of course – Ben knew why. He was meant to find her, in every life.

Now, they had been married for five years, and they had twin daughters who brought joy into their lives every single day.

There had been talk recently of two young girls within the village who had started convulsing, screaming like the devil was inside them as they writhed on the ground. The local doctor had diagnosed them as being bewitched. It had everyone on edge, including Ben.

His Rey wasn’t like the other women. For instance, right now she stood by the barn, humming as she tended to a kitten that had been abandoned by its mother. She was feeding it off her finger every two hours, never complaining about waking up in the wee hours of the morning to do so.

He would never tire of looking at her, or being in the same space as she was.

Days passed, and Rey fed the kitten every two hours, marveling as it grew stronger under her careful care. It’s eyes opened, and Rey made sure to show the new little life to their daughters as often as possible. Ben had warned her about the discontent growing in the small village, but Rey was only concerned about her family and their care.

Her Ben was her world, along with their two perfect little girls. She loved being a wife and a mother to them. Growing up, she hadn’t thought she would ever have a man such as Ben turn his eyes to her – but he treated her like a delicate treasure.

She had truly been blessed by God, to have a man such as Benjamin Solo notice her. As she tended to the garden, humming as she watched their twins catching butterflies, Rey didn’t notice the constable approaching until he was announcing himself.

“Verity Solo, I have been tasked with bringing you before the magistrate on charges of witchcraft! Is your husband here to keep an eye on the children?” The constable looked down on her from horseback, a look of disgust on his face.

Ben appeared from the barn, where he had been tending to the livestock. “Constable Hux. What can I help you with today?” Ben asked, not liking the look the red haired man was casting towards Rey.

“Mr. Solo. I am tasked with bringing your wife before the magistrates on charges of witchcraft. She’s known to have familiars, and the Smith family from the next farm over have livestock not producing since your wife was seen with a cat. She’s been weaving curses, and she needs to be made accountable. I expect you can see to the children so she can come with me?”

“Ben?” Rey asked, fear blooming in her eyes and her voice frantic as she said his name. “Ben… what’s going to happen to me?”

Ben approached his wife, pulling her into his arms and planting a soft kiss to her lips. “You’ll appear before the magistrate’s, my love. Make sure to answer all their questions. I am sure everything will be put right soon enough. I’ll take the girls to my parents and come into the village, alright? I love you.”

“I love you, too, Benjamin.”

….

Leia paced across their small sitting room, glancing at Han, who had a twin on each knee, trying to distract them with corn cob dolls he had made for them.

“This is not good, Benjamin. We warned you about moving so close to the village. Now it seems as if poor Rey is the next victim in all this folly.” Leia sighed. “What are you going to do, son?”

Ben thought for a few moments, silently cursing Radjni again. She was the reason for his anguish over and over again, and Ben couldn’t help but hope for the ending of the very Earth they walked upon, simply so that he and Rey could finally be together for good.

“I need to go to the village, Mother. I will not let them simply take her from me. If… if something happens, you and Father will take care of the girls for me?” Ben asked, running a hand through his hair.

He did not have a good feeling about this.

“Oh, Benjamin, of course we will. Go see to things in the village. The girls shall be cared for, of course.”

Ben embraced his mother before doing the same with his daughters, showering their chubby cheeks with light kisses before striding out the door. Something told him he wouldn’t be returning to them in this life, and he felt a great sadness overcome him briefly again, as he looked to the sky and silently damned the ancient Priestess who had cursed him once more.

As he rode into Salem Village, the villagers turned away from him, ushering their children inside – as if he was poison itself. The tiny jail was his final destination, and he burst through the small door, sneering at Hux as he said softly, “I need to see my wife.”

….

Three days later, Ben sat in the tiny room that was used by the magistrate’s, listening to them list the complaints that had been brought against Rey by neighbors. People he had once thought were friends had, in fact, turned against them the first chance they were given.

He could understand the terror, and the unease, they were feeling, but Ben knew his Rey had nothing to do with any of it. How could the most important person in his life – in  _ all _ his lives – be the cause of crops dying and cows not producing milk?

It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of, brought on by mass hysteria.

Rey had begged him that no matter the outcome of her trial was, he would promise to raise their little girls to be kind and loving to every creature they met, and to make sure they remembered her all their days. He had been allowed to speak with her at great length, and had told her everything in his heart that he felt for her.

Ben knew that after all this time, he should be a bitter, hateful man. But it was Rey who kept him going, from one life to the next. He always knew he would find her, and even if all they shared was a glance, a moment in time, that moment was enough to keep him until they met again. Even though Radjni had cursed him – Ben still felt like he was besting her – because he got Rey, over and over again, until someday they would finally be together forever. Rey wouldn’t want him bitter and broken, and she deserved nothing less than the best from him.

….

Three days later found him standing outside the witches prison, where he watched in silent agony as they dragged his sweet Rey, half delirious from fever and starvation, to the platform beside a tree, the noose already hanging and waiting to be placed around her delicate neck. He made eye contact with his beloved, and she wept when she saw him, crying his name over and over again as she extended a hand to him. Ben’s fingers brushed against hers as they dragged her past, and he barely heard her words over her tears.  _ Remember your promise to me. _

Ben fell to his knees, weeping and begging as they declared his sweet, innocent wife a witch before placing the rope around her neck and pushing her off the platform, where she twitched and shuddered before her body went limp for yet another life.


	6. April 10, 1912—Southampton Docks, Great Britain

Rachel Sanders stood on the docks, clutching a small suitcase containing everything she owned in her hands as she looked upwards in awe at the ship she would soon board—a ship destined to take her to a new life in America.

She had worked hard to save up the money to purchase a ticket, her skills as both a healer and a person who could fix anything with moving parts helping her keep food in her belly and a roof over her head until she could save up the money for the voyage.

She had no clue what she would do once she reached America—but she would figure it out. 

She always did. She was a survivor.

….

Benjamin Solo had spent the past year in Paris, traveling and seeing the sights. Unfortunately, it was time to return home to New York and his family—and his mother trying to introduce him to whatever woman she thought would be perfect for him to marry and provide her with grandchildren.

Ben wanted to find love on his own—not one of the socialites his mother chose for him, but someone he had a bond with. Someone that spoke to his soul, not just his eyes and pockets. He knew, of course, who that woman was already. He had shared many lifetimes with her, many shared kisses and passion-filled nights, and even now he could convince himself he felt her essence somewhere out there, waiting for him.

As he stood on the Promenade deck of the  _ RMS Titanic _ , looking out over the throngs of passengers waiting to board—which at this point, were the ones booked in steerage—he adjusted his waistcoat and pulled out his gold pocket watch, opening it to glance at the time. The time was 11:30 AM, and they had been told that they would be starting their voyage at noon. Tucking his watch back into the pocket of his trousers, Ben huffed as he looked down at everyone still waiting to board. He hoped that they would be boarded in time for them to leave on schedule—Ben hated tardiness.

As his eyes moved back towards the docks, he saw a familiar set of hazel eyes, peering up towards the ship, and a smile broke out on his face. She was  _ here _ —with him—so close that Ben knew he would have no trouble finding her, and a whole voyage to get to know her.

….

Finally on board, Rey stood on the highest deck she was allowed on as a third-class passenger, her eyes wide with wonder as she watched the Titanic move out of the harbor. There were a few tense moments, where crewmen were shouting and running about, and it looked as if another ship would collide with them. Luckily, the crisis was averted, and Rey’s heart rate was soon back to normal as she simply stood at the deck, taking in the last view she would have of her homeland.

It was time to let her past die. She had a new life and new adventures waiting for her in America.

Someone came to stand beside her at the railing, the man’s voice sliding over her ears like a lullaby, the dulcet tones probably the most lovely she had ever heard, and she turned her head and looked up at the man, a smile on her face as she did so. He was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen, dressed in a black sack suit, a straw boater hat perched on his raven hair and a silver-tipped cane in one hand. He had large hands, with long, tanned fingers, and as he smiled at her, Rey took notice of the dotting of moles and marks on his face. His nose was long, but on him, it only added to his dashing good looks—and then her eyes met his.

His eyes were the color of bourbon, deep and mesmerizing, and Rey felt like she could see whatever he was feeling inside just by looking at them.

Clearly—he must have gotten lost, because a man of money did not belong on the third-class deck with the steerage passengers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man gestured towards the water, but his eyes never left hers.

She felt a flush come across her cheeks, yet she only nodded at the man. “It is, yes. The ship is incredible—one of a kind, for sure.”

“Incredible. Indeed.” His words caressed her face, somehow, leaving Rey feeling almost breathless. “My name is Ben Solo, what’s yours?”

For a moment, she couldn’t remember, and then she drew in a deep breath, her gloved fingers fidgeting on the railing before she could speak. “Rachel Sanders—but I go by Rey. Pleasure to meet you, Ben. You are American?”

“I am,” he continued to smile at her. “I am returning home to New York after a year in Paris. You are travelling to New York, as well, I am assuming?” His eyes moved for a moment down to her hands before coming back to her eyes. “Please, walk with me, Rey?” He waved his hand towards the decks above them, and Rey looked at him wide eyed.

“Mister Solo, I… I am a third-class passenger! I am not allowed on those decks!”

His eyes twinkled with mirth as he leaned closer to her, his voice almost a whisper as he said, “Unless you are the guest of a first-class passenger—which you now are.” Straightening himself to his full height, Ben gestured to the stairs that would take them to the upper decks. “Shall we?”

Rey thought about it for a few moments—sometimes men said one thing, while wanting something else. Was this just a way for a rich man to lure her into something more? Rey gazed into his eyes once more, but found nothing more than kindness and generosity within their depths.

“I would like that very much,” Rey said, taking Ben’s proffered arm.

….

Falling in love with Ben had been so easy, Rey thought to herself three days later, as she sat on a settee in his opulent sitting room, waiting for him to emerge from his sleeping chamber. He was, by far, the kindest man she had ever met. It didn’t matter to him if you were staying in steerage or in first class - Ben treated everyone the same. He saw people’s souls as opposed to their exterior. They had gone on many strolls, and shared almost every meal together now, and they could talk about absolutely anything. Rey had never felt more comfortable with another person than she did with Ben. Today, their plans were to go for a stroll before breakfast, and then spend the day relaxing as the Titanic steamed on through the Atlantic waters towards New York.

As he emerged from the room, he smiled at her, and she stood, his embrace making her feel like she was finally home. Ben had admitted he had fallen in love with her as well, and neither of them doubted their feelings for the other. It was intense, and it had been quick—but it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her in her short life. This amazing, handsome, witty man wanted to marry her when they reached New York. He didn’t have a ring to give her, of course, but she had his heart—and that was enough for now.

She didn’t have to look for anything once she reached America—because she had already found everything she needed here in the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

….

She would have felt awful for letting Ben take her virginity, if she hadn’t known they were to be married once they reached New York. Lying next to him as he slept peacefully felt so right, and for someone who had grown up an orphan on the streets of London, having a sense of home and contentment was the best feeling in the world.

Ben knew her past—he knew she came from nothing—yet he still wanted her. Rachel Sanders—the girl from nowhere. The girl with nothing.

Soon-to-be Mrs. Benjamin Solo.

A great bang sounded, and the ship shuddered underneath them, causing Ben to jolt awake beside her. “What was that?” He asked sleepily, pulling her closer and planting a kiss to her lips softly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, nuzzling closer to Ben. She had moved all her things from her cramped steerage compartment to his quarters just this morning, and Ben had taken pains to make sure everyone knew that she was his fiancé—and some of the stares and whispers they had gotten had made her bristle with anger.

Luckily, Ben didn’t care, and kept her calm by holding her hand and murmuring in her ear how beautiful she was, and how thankful he was to have found her.

She drifted off to sleep, her head cradled on Ben’s chest, and they were awakened thirty minutes later by someone beating on the door to their room. Rey panicked, looking at Ben with wide eyes. If she was found in his room, it would damage her reputation, and Rey didn’t want anything to hurt her love, especially not whispers about his fiance. Ben sat up, putting on a robe over his pajamas and bidding her to stay where she was while he handled whatever business awaited him at the door.

A few moments later, Ben rushed back into the room, his eyes frantic as he looked at Rey. “I’ve just been told we’ve struck an iceberg. We’re to stay here until we receive further instructions. Rey—if you had been in your compartmentl, I fear for what may have happened.”

“Ben, a-are we going to—is the ship going to sink?” Rey got out of bed, throwing a dressing gown around her nightgown and going to Ben, who folded her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“I doubt it. They say this ship is unsinkable because of the way it’s designed. I’m sure we’ll be told to go back to bed once the crew has the situation in hand.”

….

Ninety minutes later found them on the deck, Ben’s arms around her as he tried desperately to convince her to board one of the rickety-looking lifeboats. The ship’s eight-person band was playing a hymn, trying to soothe those terrified passengers that were milling about the deck, waiting to board one of the life rafts. Rey could hear the sobs of panic-stricken women as they said goodbye to their husbands before being helped onto the life rafts with their children in tow.

Looking up at Ben, Rey was resolved in her decision. “I’m not leaving you, Ben. I know it’s been a short time that we have known each other, but I pledged myself to you. If… if we’re meant to die here, we’ll die together. I love you, Ben.”

“I love you too, Rey. Always.”

When the water rushed over them an hour later, stealing their breath and their lives, they were in each other’s arms—as it should be.


	7. Pacific Theater, Guadalcanal—October 1942

Mail call was always exciting for the boys in his company—especially those that had sweethearts waiting back home. As his commanding officer called out names, Ben’s heart leapt when he heard his being called, and even more thrilled to find a bundle of letters, most of them containing the flourishing script of his sweetheart, Rey Sanders.

She was a RAF nurse stationed in London, and Ben had met her after an unfortunate incident where he had taken a nail through his hand. She had patched him up and given him a shot of penicillin in his backside after the doctor had given him a few stitches, and when he’d looked her dead in the eyes and deadpanned that since she had given him a shot in the ass, the least she could do was agree to go out with him, the last thing he expected was for her to agree.

He was nothing but a farm boy from Indiana who was doing his part for his country, but Rey—Rey was  _ everything _ . She was funny, and brilliant, kind and caring—and more beautiful than anyone he had ever laid eyes on before.

But then again—she was like that in every life for him. He had lost track of how many lives he had lived by now, but Rey was always the same—the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Settling himself onto his rack, which had pictures of him and Rey taped and tucked in wherever he could find a spot, Ben opened one of the letters and smiled as he read:

_ My dearest Ben, _

_ I hope you are safe and smiling as you read this. I think about you every day, every moment, really. I can’t wait for this war to be over, so you can marry me and make me a proper Midwestern American farmer’s wife. Tell Poe if he doesn’t keep you safe that I’m going to throw him in the Thames the next time I see him. _

_ I miss your smile, your laugh, the way your arms are so strong around me. I miss the feel of your lips pressed against mine. I miss everything about you. _

_ Stay safe and know I am thinking about you. _

_ All my love always, _

_ Rey _

Ben was grinning like a fool when he got done reading the stack of letters—three of which had been from his mother. She was thrilled, of course, that he had found someone to marry, and she and Rey had been writing letters to each other so they could get to know one another until they met in person. Rey had sent her a photograph of her and Ben together, and that had, apparently, made his mother’s month.

He looked up as his friend Poe Dameron approached, rolling his eyes as he saw the smile dawning on Ben’s face. “More letters from that pretty little nurse of yours?” Poe knew all too well how over the moon Ben and Rey were for each other.

“You know it, and she threatened to throw you in the Thames if you don’t take care of me,” Ben quipped, his grin widening. Both men knew that even though Rey was smaller than them both—she was fierce and would make good on her promise if need be.

….

The war raged on, and most days when Rey fell into her bunk for some well-deserved sleep, she would curl up and drift off easily, sleeping with one eye open and an ear listening for the bombing sirens which were all too prevalent lately. She saw so much pain and death, and that carried over into her dreams, even.

When she got back to her bunk one day, she saw a bundle of letters waiting for her, and she let out an excited squeak as she tore into the first one.

_ My beautiful Rey of sunshine, _

_ Thoughts of you keep me going. I get through each day by imagining what our life will be like after the war is over and we’re married. Waking up next to you each morning, going to sleep next to you each night will be gifts I will treasure, because I know what we’ll have gone through to have them. Kissing those perfect lips of yours whenever I want will thrill me for the rest of my life. _

_ I love you so much. You complete me, Rey. You’ll never know how long I looked for you before finding you. You’re the best thing in my life. _

_ Until we see each other again, know you are on my mind every moment. _

_ All my love for all time, _

_ Ben _

Rey read all the letters twice, and she fell asleep clutching them to her heart.

….

The battle for Guadalcanal was vicious, and as Ben piloted his Wildcat through the air, targeting the Japanese Zeros that had appeared everywhere—all at once, it seemed—he knew he was in for the fight of his life. The sounds of gunfire, mortar shells and bombs, creating thick towers of smoke in the air, were all he could see and hear, and he pulled the control stick to the left, causing his plane to roll sharply, its motor whining in protest as he dodged a strafing attack from one of the Japanese planes.

He never saw the shots that sealed his fate coming, and as the Wildcat stuttered and stalled, a smoking, fiery heap as it dove for the ground below, Ben only had one choice—he had to ditch and hope he landed in an Allied friendly zone.

He didn’t.

When he came to, the soldiers surrounding him, guns drawn, were definitely not friendly, and as they forced him to march for what seemed like miles on what was likely a broken ankle—all Ben could think of was Rey.

….

The letters stopped coming to her on a monthly basis from Ben, and Rey knew something was horribly wrong. He wrote her every single night—and she did the same. It kept them connected, made them feel like they both had something to look forward to. When they stopped coming, Rey knew she had lost him.

His mother also stopped receiving letters, and they both feared the worst.

She cried herself to sleep most nights, begging her CO’s for any news of his squadron. All she was told is that there had been news that most of his squadron had been shot down over the Guadalcanal—and not to hope for a miracle. The Japanese were not known for being merciful, and even if Ben had survived being shot down, it was likely the Japanese had executed him upon capture.

It was months before she could function on a somewhat normal level—and the nights were the worst. She slept fitfully, dreaming of Ben and the life they had seemingly lost.

When a pilot named Poe Dameron ended up in her hospital, Rey rushed to him, his face bloodied and bruised from his latest dogfight—one which he told everyone he had won—of course, even though he had been shot down and almost captured by the Germans.

“Poe… please… Ben? Do you have news?”

Poe’s face tightened, his eyes watering as he thought of his friend who had fought so valiantly until his plane went down in a ball of smoke and flames. Poe bit his bottom lip, shaking his head sadly. “He… he’s gone. I watched his plane go down, Rey. I am so sorry… he loved you so much.”

Rey collapsed, and when she came to, she was lying on a cot, surrounded by other nurses, all of them with concerned looks on their faces.

….

A year passed, and even though it seemed like a lifetime, Rey somehow found her way, though her once bright smile was now tinged with sadness, and the light that had been in her eyes was dimmed by the horrors of war. Her country was in ruins, the Germans advanced more every day, and the world fought for peace.

It consumed everyone.

Rey was tired. She was exhausted. She was ready to find her place in this new, scary world, so when Armitage Hux asked her for a dance one night, she agreed. He was nice enough—very British and everything Ben wasn’t, and when he asked her to dinner—she agreed, although she didn’t know why. Perhaps she was just tired of being alone after a year, and she didn’t think she could cry any more tears than she already had. She was an empty shell now—the old Rey had died with Ben over the Pacific. This was a new Rey—not improved, not better—but alive and needing companionship.

….

1945 was a year of change for the world. —It woke up from the oppression and tyranny of a war, which tore families apart and left more dead in its wake than anyone could have possibly imagined. —Hope bloomed eternal for those left behind.

Evil would never win, and there would always be those brave souls who fought against it.

Captain Benjamin Solo knew how he had survived being tortured and starved by the Japanese for almost three years—Rey Sanders. He thought of her every moment, pictured her face in great detail, and kept her love alive in his heart every moment he was in captivity.

Nothing the Japanese did to him could dull her shining light in his heart. She was his sunshine, and he couldn’t wait to see her again, to hold her in his arms and kiss her now that the war was over. They had a future to plan, and as the plane carrying him to England to get his official debriefing and discharge paperwork done, Ben had a smile on his face.

Soon, he would see Rey.

….

Rey’s eyes widened at the words on the paper clutched in her hand.

Ben was alive.

_ Ben was alive. _

All this time, the Japanese had him in one of their detention camps, starving and beating him… yet her strong, resilient love had somehow survived.

And now she had to break his heart—for Rey had just married two months ago. She had found a different kind of love with Armitage—but she had thought Ben was dead! Surely, he would find a way to understand, wouldn’t he?

….

Three days later, Rey stood in a small room on the base she had once saved lives on, the very base she had met Ben at, waiting with her heart tripping in her chest and her breath hitching in her throat.

He walked through the door, and she ran into his arms without thinking, tears already falling as she clutched him to her. He was thin and tired looking—but just as handsome as she remembered.

“Ben! I… I thought you were dead...I waited a year, and then Armie asked me out, and he was so sweet and kind, and I love him… but I  _ love _ you too… I am so sorry, Ben…”

Her words rushed out in a jumble, and when she finally looked up into Ben’s eyes, she saw tears pooling in his eyes, his lower lip quivering with the emotions he was holding in.

“Poe told me. I… I love you, Rey. But I understand. I’ll be okay. Is it wrong of me to ask for one kiss before I catch my plane back home?”

Rey shook her head softly, her lips meeting his in a kiss that would have to last them the rest of their lives. When she pulled away, she murmured, “I love you, Ben. I will always love you.”

Ben sniffled, swiping his hands across his eyes before nodding. “I know. And I love you too. It’s always been you. It will always be you. Goodbye, Rey. Be well.”

And with that, Ben turned, walking out of the room and into the rest of his life.


	8. April 2011—Marion County, Alabama, USA

Lieutenant Ben Solo of the Alabama State Police was nervous. He could always sense when a storm was approaching—Rey called it his spidey senses—and today was no different. There was a storm coming, and Ben could tell it was going to be a bad one.

The scar on his face was aching, another telltale sign the barometer was dropping. He had gotten the long, jagged scar two years ago, when he’d been trying to break up a bar fight between two good ole boys and one of them, in their drunken wisdom, had attacked him with a broken beer bottle.

It wasn’t the worst scar he had gotten after all this time, after all these lives, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least he had found Rey, and they had all these years together. They had been together for ten years now, married for five—and Ben knew the proverbial axe would fall at some point.

It always did.

_ …Until the Earth ends…  _ Her voice drifted through his mind as he sat on the highway, his radar gun pointed at the oncoming traffic.

He always heard that ancient voice when their time was almost up, and Ben was consumed by a sick feeling deep in his gut, coupled with the need to get home, just so he could take his wife in his arms and tell her how much he loved her—how he had loved her for an eternity now, and how he would love her for an eternity more.

She wouldn’t understand, of course, but she would give him a laugh and tell him he was being far too intense, that they were still young and had plenty more years together.

He knew the truth, though. Their time together was limited—it always was. Sometimes, Ben found himself standing in their backyard, late at night, his face looked skyward as he wished for an asteroid or a comet—any heavenly body, really—to come crashing down on Earth. If the Earth ended—so did the curse, and then he and Rey could finally be together the way they should have been.

Ben’s radio crackled to life, the dispatcher calling all patrols back in towards the main town for weather watch, and Ben felt his heart sink even more. Weather watch meant that the storms were going to be bad—just as he had feared.

….

Rey glanced up at the sky as she loaded her groceries into her car, a low hum of worry leaving her lips. Everyone was hurrying out of the Piggly Wiggly, it seemed, intent on making their way home. Even after living in the deep south after a decade, she still got nervous during tornado season. The air felt heavy, and the weird green haze in the sky just kicked her nerves into overdrive, spurring her to get in her car and home as fast as she could.

Ben had insisted that they put a basement under their house when they built it four years ago—and Rey was grateful her husband was so insightful. He had been a Boy Scout and a Marine, after all—always prepared was ingrained in Ben’s mind.

As Rey pulled into the driveway, she wasn’t surprised to see Ben’s patrol car pulling in behind her. As she got out of the car, he was already halfway to her, and she gave him a wide smile, running her hands across his broad chest as he pulled her into his arms.

“I so love a man in uniform,” Rey quipped as she smiled up at her husband.

Ben gave her a smile in return, glancing up at the sky nervously before looking back at his wife. “I got a few minutes before I have to go out on weather watch. Let me help you unload the groceries and get set up in the basement.”

“Ben…” Rey protested softly, knowing she was already fighting a losing battle. She knew every inch of Ben Solo by now, and the expression on his face—his jaw set in worry and determination—meant he would get his way.

“No, Rey… these are bad storms coming. My scars itching and I can just… feel it. Okay? Trust me?” Ben cupped her face between his large hands, looking deeply into her eyes, like it might be the last time he ever saw her. If he was this worried—well, Rey should be worried as well.

“You know I trust you, Ben. Fine, let’s get these inside and put away, then you can tuck me safely into the basement and go do your job. You’ll be extra safe, right?” Her sweet, kind, handsome husband had been shot during tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, almost blown up by a roadside bomb, and been in more scuffles as a State Trooper than Rey would ever want to ponder—one little storm was not going to take him away from her.

Still, she worried about him. She worried as soon as he put on that uniform and got into his patrol car every day. But she knew Ben loved his job—and she loved him, all of him, which included his work.

As they worked to unload the groceries, Ben grabbed her before she could get the last sack out of the trunk, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply, his tongue grazing over her bottom lip and his hand tangling in her hair, leaving her breathless and dizzy as he pulled away finally.

Grinning up at him, Rey asked, “What’s that all about, Lieutenant Solo? You know old Mrs. Jenkins next door is watching, being scandalized by us making out in our driveway. She’s probably already on the phone with dispatch, demanding to speak to Captain Dameron.”

Ben’s eyes widened in mock shock, and he clutched one hand over his heart. “The scandal! A happily married, and very much in love, couple… making out in their driveway. How horrendous!” Ben smirked at Rey before leaning down and kissing her again. “She’s still pissed I didn’t take her daughter to the prom. Let’s get this bag inside and get you settled in. It might be a long night, Sunshine.”

“Yeah,” Rey said, glancing at the sky before grabbing her husband’s hand to pull him inside their house.

Twenty minutes later found them standing in the basement, Ben having done his checks to make sure everything was in order in case the worst happened. There were food and water stores to last a month, as well as several large, waterproof containers filled with batteries, flashlights and anything else that might be needed in an emergency.

Rey watched her husband as he double-checked everything one more time before turning and crossing the room to her. “I love you, Raelynn Michelle Sands-Solo, you know that, right?”

“With every beat of my heart. But I love you more, Benjamin Lucas Solo.” Rey threw her arms around Ben, pulling herself as close to him as she could and nuzzling her face into his chest. 

She could hear his heart beating, steady and strong, through his uniform, and she sighed before pulling away and standing on tiptoes to kiss him softly. “Go protect and serve, Ben. I love you more.”

“Not possible. Keep your phone plugged in and charging, ok? And the weather radio on.” Ben paused at the door to the stairs leading to the main floor, looking back at Rey. “I love you.”

Rey gave Ben what she hoped was a comforting smile. “Love you too. Be safe and see you after your shift.” She settled into the most comfortable chair in the basement, opening a book, so that she would have something to do to keep her mind off worrying about the weather and her husband being out in it.

….

The tornado touched down first in Marion County, barreling ahead with little regard to anything in its path. Buildings were scoured down to the foundation, pavement was lifted off the roads, and homes and businesses lay in ruin. The town resembled a war zone, the tornado leaving behind only destruction and heartache in its wake.

Ben had been called into the station from weather watch, their Captain deciding that if the worst happened, he wanted all his first responders in one place, close to a populated area—and it was good that he had—there was much to do after the maelstrom.

Rey sat in the basement of their home, texting her husband almost constantly. When the power went out, she started crying, begging the universe to spare the town, to spare her, and, most importantly, to spare her husband. The sirens started whining, and Rey knew it was bad, that Mother Nature was seeking vengeance upon the world for everything humans had done to her.

The world went silent outside, only the sirens whining, and then came the sound of a freight train barreling down the tracks. The world exploded above her, and Rey shrieked as rain and hail pelted her from above, the beams from their home crashing down all around her. She dove to the floor at the right moment, a tree branch careening onto the spot she had been a moment before, and she lay still, panting and praying until the world got eerily quiet, the only sounds errant car alarms and somebody down the street screaming.

She was alive. Now, she could only hope Ben made it through, as well. The last text she had gotten from him reassured her they were all in their tornado safe room at their station, and that they were sheltering in place until the storms had passed and they needed to venture out to help with rescues and clean up detail, as well as coordinating the clean-up effort with the throngs of volunteer organizations who were sure to show up to help.

….

Rey was alive. As soon as the all-clear was given and they were able to start the search and rescue process, their home was the first place Ben had carefully made his way to. Their home was destroyed—little more than splintered wood and twisted metal—but Rey was alive. She was terrified, and as the rescuers freed her from the rubble of their home, Ben had been there to scoop her up into his arms, not letting go of her until she was resting on a cot in the medical triage area.

His forehead against hers, he had traced his thumb over her cheeks as she sobbed, trying to comfort her as best he could before he had to go back to work. After the EMTs had given her a clean bill of health, minus some scratches and scrapes, Ben got her settled into the shelter that was set up for storm victims.

“Don’t leave, Ben. I’m so scared,” Rey sobbed, her tears leaving a wet spot on his uniform as she clung to him.

“Shhh, sunshine. We can rebuild our house. All the material things can be replaced. But you’re here, and you’re fine and safe and cared for. I have to go back to work—there are other people out there not as fortunate as you and I, okay? I need to go help them.”

“I-I know,” Rey hiccupped, trying to assuage the tears that didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Rey, I love you.” Ben looked into his wife’s eyes, his thumbs wiping the tears off her dirt-streaked face. “I’ll always love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” His lips met hers in a sweet, loving kiss before he stood, looking down at her small frame, wrapped in a rescue blanket as she still shivered on the cot that had been provided for those staying at the shelter.

She was terrified, but she was alive, and that was enough for him. Reaching down, Ben touched her face one more time, a slow smile coming to his lips. “I’ll see you soon. Stay out of trouble, Solo. Love you.”

Rey looked up at her tall, handsome husband, a surge of pride thrumming through her even through her terror. He was saving lives, which made him happy. “Ben… you’re the best thing that ever happened to me too. I’ll try to stay out of trouble, don’t want you to have to come haul me out of here in cuffs or anything.” Rey managed a grin at Ben, before pursing her lips and blowing him a kiss. “Go save lives. I love you more.”

Ben caught the kiss with a cheesy grin before he turned and walked out into the night.

….

They say that at the moment of your death, your life flashes before your eyes. Ben had died plenty of times—and it had yet to happen to him.

This death would be no different.

As he stepped out of his patrol car on a street that had once held large, beautiful homes with perfectly manicured lawns, his foot made contact with a large puddle, and he never had time to even think of anything else before the electricity from the downed wire coursed through his body, causing his heart to short circuit in his chest, his tall body slumping lifeless to the ground.


	9. Earth - 2172

Ben watched through the large viewport of the transport ship, the Earth falling away beneath them as they streaked through the sky towards their new home on Alderaan Two. Rey was leaned back against him, his arms circled her protectively as he rested his chin on her shoulder while they watched everything they had ever known grow farther and farther away.

“Ben,” Rey said softly, turning her head halfway so she could see the outline of his face, “I’m scared…”

“Me too,” Ben said softly, pulling her closer to him and planting a light kiss to the side of her neck.

They were on the Raddus VII, the last of the transports to leave Earth. Each transport held five hundred people—the last 3,500 people on Earth. It had been a long, hard road for them—but they had made it. He and Rey had made it through another catastrophe, just one of many they had incurred in their many lives together—lives that Ben remembered with a vivid clarity that sometimes took his breath away.

Not every lifetime had a happy ending.

None of them, in fact.

Maybe this time was different, maybe this time he and Rey could finally live out the rest of their lives together—maybe have a family, a home. Everything that they had planned and talked about in every single life they had been together, but had never had.

As they watched, Ben noticed something below them, a rift, of sorts, starting in the center of their old planet and moving outward. Everyone standing around them starting to murmur, a nervous energy flooding through the compartment as they all watched in stunned silence…

As the Earth imploded in on itself.

As Ben watched, he could only whisper, “Until the Earth ends,” Rey’s hushed words mirroring his as she turned, her eyes wide and her lips forming an ‘O’ of surprise.

“Ben,” she gasped, tears brimming in her beautiful hazel eyes now. “Ben… all this time? I, I remember. I remember  _ everything _ . After all this time? You still chose me, knowing what you knew would happen?”

Ben’s eyes were brimming with tears as well as he nodded at Rey—love filling his gaze as he reached out with one hand, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I’ll always choose you, Rey. No matter the time or place. I’ll  _ always _ choose you.”

Ben lowered his lips to hers, their kiss full of love, promise… and hope. Hope for a future that both of them knew now would be one they made together, one that they built on a foundation of love for the other.

Ben pulled away slightly, smiling down at Rey before lowering his forehead to hers, his words like the sweetest symphony to her ears. “I love you, Rey.”

“I love you too, Ben. Always.”

“Always,” Ben echoed the sentiment.

Whatever waited for them on Alderaan Two, at least they would have each other for the rest of their lives. And they would have hope.

Always hope.


End file.
